Significance
by eirayne
Summary: In which colors are so much more than hues of light. Rated T because I'm paranoid. Updates will be sporadic.
1. The Significance of Colors

**Significance**

 **a.n.** In which colors are so much more than hues of light.

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 _Color (n.) – a physical property of an object that results from light either reflected or emitted off of said object._

A scientific definition of the hues and shades our eyes pick up on, yet not one word describes the deeper meanings colors hold.

Red can mean **danger** and **hate** , or **passion** and **joy**. Orange can mean **distrust** and **aggression** , or **success** and **encouragement**. Yellow can mean **caution** and **cowardice** , or **energy** and **intellect**. Green can mean **greed** and **discord** , or **growth** and **safety**. Blue can mean **power** and **sadness** , or **trust** and **stability**. Purple can mean **frustration** and **gloom** , or **wisdom** and **creativity**. Pink can mean **weakness** and **shallowness** , or **tenderness** and **romance**. Silver can mean **fear** and **indecisiveness** , or **protection** and **gracefulness**. White can mean **isolation** and **emptiness** , or **innocence** and **purity**. Black can mean **evil** and **grief** , or **elegance** and **authority**.

Color is one thing to the eye, but something else entirely to the heart.

Color is the **strength** that outshines the **despair**.

Color is the **comfort** that heals the **pain**.

Color is the **acceptance** that erases the **loneliness**.

Color is the **peace** that is worth the **chaos**.

Color is the **defiance** that stems from the **fear**.

Color is the **order** that relieves the **confusion**.

Color is the **love** that makes up for the **neglect**.

Color is the **immortalized** that are never **forgotten**.

Color is the **angels** that defeat the **demons**.

Color is the **rebirth** that follows the **death**.

Not one color means the same to every person. Ideas and archetypes can be universal, but the true significance of a color relies on the experiences of a life, not a universally accepted concept.

And half-bloods have plenty of life experiences to work with.

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 ** _/COMING SOON – UPDATES WILL BE SPORADIC/_**


	2. The Strength that Outshines the Despair

**[a/n] hey guys! sorry for the wait on this. i've had a busy couple of months and i kinda lost inspiration for a bit. that being said, this didn't come out how i would've liked, but i wanted to post something.**

 **Home4MentallyUnstable:** thanks for reading an reviewing! yeah, bolding the words was a bit of an annoyance but i wanted the words to stand out :)

 **andrelyse:** i'm gonna assume you meant 'is' instead of 'isn't' haha. thanks for reviewing!

 **Guest:** hope this was worth the wait!

 **Ocean abyss (guest):** i'm glad you liked it! here's more to read!

 **PLEASE READ THIS: guys i've been so busy lately but the few moments i have to write i'm stuck with writer's block. i'm ALL FOR accepting requests if there's something you guys want me to write (like a one-shot prompt, etc). i have some ideas already begun but none of them are finished yet so in the meantime PM me or leave a review if you have a request!**

 **thanks :) hope you enjoy!**

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 **Significance**

 **a.n.** In which colors are so much more than hues of light.

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 **RED—The Strength that Outshines the Despair**

 **RACHEL DARE**

The red paint dripped down the edge of her brush. She raised it to eyelevel, watching the drop of scarlet paint slide down the worn down bristles with a dazed sort of fascination.

It had been weeks since the final battle against the Titans had ended in a victory for Olympus, and Rachel was still adjusting to being the official bringer of bad news and unwelcomed prophecies for her demigodly friends.

Of course, she was proud of the role she now played. She was _beyond_ grateful that everything made sense (or as much sense as the occurrences of a supposedly mythological universe could make), and that her talents could be used for something good—no matter how unhelpful those gods-awful prophecies were.

But with this new role—with this job of being the Oracle—came vivid recollections and dreams of the future and the past alike, and even though Rachel wouldn't be who she was without certain events, there were some memories she wished would fade.

The drop of red paint slipped off the brush, splattering on the edge of her newly painted canvas to create an accidental addition to her already disturbing painting.

 _Manhattan was a battlefield. She had arrived between the bouts of chaos that took over the city, but there was enough proof remaining to burn an image into her mind and scar her forever._

The drop of paint thinned out as it soaked into the canvas, extending as though attempting to match the rest of the painting. The discarded sword that Rachel had painted in lay beside it, dotted with specks of the red paint that slowly dried.

 _Weapons lay forgotten on the streets of the city, left behind in either panic or death. The handful of demigods that still roamed the streets were covered in blood-stained bandages, the ones still able to remain on their feet searching through the debris for lost belongings . . . or friends._

Her eyes scanned the painting as a whole, her brain finally registering what she had created. It wasn't rare for her mind to get caught up in flashbacks, and the images from her memories often escaped through her paintbrush and onto a canvas. It was a way for her to release all the bad feelings and memories that had piled up since she had been introduced to this world, but as her eyes met the weary, sea-green-painted gaze of her half-blood friend, she wondered why it was a release when it only made the memories so much more real.

 _Her friend—a son of a Greek god, a half-blood, a hero—stared at her through battle-worn and bloodshot eyes, and her words choked up in her throat. What he lacked in physical injuries he made up for in mental exhaustion, and Rachel hated to be the bearer of unhelpful news that would bring the low moral even lower._

At the edge of the canvas, the glaring eyes of a drakon's skeleton stared back at her as it crawled around a building in the background. Beneath its shadow lie the body of a true hero, one whose final words were distant and happy as she reunited with a love.

 _The warrior burned with rage as she stood over her fallen friend, and even from the safety of the improvised demigod HQ, Rachel could see the aura that surrounded the girl. The daughter of the war god's anger blazed so hot she glowed red as she taunted the Titan lord of time and rebelled against their impending fate._

Rachel dipped the brush into the cup of water beside the montage of memories she had painted on the canvas. The scarlet paint mixed with the water, the vibrant color becoming diluted as red tendrils of watered-down paint slowly dyed the clear liquid.

As she watched the cup of water gradually turn red, the nightmarish flashback slowly morphed into memories of a recent dream.

 _A discarded sword, an unwavering gaze, a wounded hero, a godly blessing, a longing to give up, a devil on their shoulders, a fire that burned within them all._

Red wasn't the sight of abandoned weapons stained with a fallen demigod's blood, but the fiery determination that burned through the campers fighting in their memory.

Red wasn't the heartbreak and sorrow that burdened the half-bloods when a hero died in the arms of a friend, but the aura of power that surrounded a warrior who refused to let a friend die in vain.

Red wasn't a sense of hopelessness when it seemed as though everything was lost, or the tiny voice that urged the heroes to open Pandora's _pithos_ and give up hope.

Red was a sense of purpose that refused to let the demigods fall to the enemy, a willpower that blazed within them and kept them fighting to their dying breath.

Red wasn't despair. Red was **strength**.

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 **a.n. not sure how i feel about this one. let me know what i should change or work on for future updates! thanks for reading (you guys are the best) and don't be afraid to leave a request (see my A/N at the top if you skipped it)!**

 **happy late Thanksgiving to any fellow Americans out there!**

 **-eira-**


	3. The Comfort that Heals the Pain

**[a/n] hey to all of my amazing readers! you all can thank Ocean abyss (guest) for getting me to update this. winter break just started for me (for those who don't know, i'm a junior in high school) and i wanted to update something so thanks to Ocean abyss for choosing for me!**

 **andrelyse:** i'm glad you loved it! i hope this update was worth the wait!

 **Home4MentallyUnstable:** i'm glad you liked it! and green will be coming soon (they're in order of the rainbow :)). i'm not gonna say whether or not green is Percy but Percy will definitely have his own chapter!

 **Ocean abyss (guest):** you have no idea how happy you made me with those reviews! they are the reason i immediately started the next chapter and i hope you like it as much as you clearly liked the first one! your review was in NO WAY offensive and made perfect sense and i'm so happy you liked the way it was written. i honestly have no more words for how happy seeing your reviews made me! and i'll try not to be so hard on myself about my writing in the future, but being a perfectionist is honestly like my fatal flaw (XD). i'll try not to let it stop me anymore but no promises! as for your question on an updating schedule, i don't have one set currently but i can promise i will never discontinue this story before it is completed and you can expect another update sometime this week!

 **thanks for not giving up on this story and leaving such amazing reviews! i hope you enjoy this update!**

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 **Significance**

 **a.n.** In which colors are so much more than hues of light.

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 **ORANGE—The Comfort that Heals the Pain**

 **LEO VALDEZ**

The hammer pounded against the sheet of bronze, the sound of metal against metal reverberating through the empty forge. The humid room was silent apart from the crackling fire in the furnace and the echo of the hammer, and it wasn't until these sounds breached the barrier of thoughts Leo had zoned off into did he realize how empty the forge was.

Setting his hammer down and wiping his grimy, smoke-scented sleeve across his sweaty forehead, Leo allowed himself to fall back down to earth. The dim glow of the fire snapping in the furnace was the only source of light in the cluttered room, but it didn't take much to see that he was the only one remaining in the forge at such ungodly hours.

A week or so had passed since Leo had returned from the sudden quest across country on dragon-back, and with the realization that a certain son of Poseidon was most likely stuck across the continent in a potentially hostile Roman camp, the demigods hadn't wasted much time in planning his rescue.

Leo hadn't been an exception. The rest of his half-bloods had decidedly put their trust into a sketch of a flying ship drawn by five-year-old Leo, and he was not about to allow that to become a foolish decision.

He had spent nearly every hour since then working on a prototype of the _Argo II,_ only taking time to eat before Piper came through on her threat of shoving food down his throat. The task had completely taken over, and it became a frequent sight to see him working long past curfew in the forge.

Unfortunately, this demanding project and his determination to not end up a failure didn't leave much time to sort out his own problems that had been burdening him since his innocent childhood had been set ablaze—quite literally. The more sleep deprived he became, he'd discovered, the more his godly skills took over and allowed for other thoughts to resurface.

 _Golden tendrils spread across the morning sky, casting a bronze glow upon the sleeping city of Houston. A little boy stood on the front lawn, brown eyes wide in awe as he watched the sun creep up over the horizon. The soft hand of his mother rested on his shoulder as she stood beside him, orange light flickering like a gentle fire in her eyes._

Leo shoved the thought away like he would to the cluttered, useless junk on his worktable. He'd buried those thoughts long ago for a reason, and he couldn't afford to be distracted by painful memories. They were times long gone, anyway; there was no point in dwelling on the past if there was no way of getting it back.

 _The t-shirt lay across his bed, glaring up at him with such a gaudy color that Leo made himself believe the unappealing aspect of the shirt was the reason he was so against wearing it. And, sure, maybe it played a part, but the fact that it represented so much more than just a shirt made him hesitant to put it on. In a way it stood for a hand held out as an offering of friendship—of family—from the demigods, and Leo wasn't sure he was ready to meet them halfway._

His grip on the hammer tightened in frustration at the thoughts spinning dizzyingly in his head. At the edge of his vision, the orange camp shirt—its bright color dulled and its words nearly faded—peaked out from behind the open front of his army jacket. He shook his head at the out-of-place feeling of giddiness at the thought of belonging somewhere, and inwardly he probably smiled a stupid little smile before he stifled it and questioned why he had the nerve to smile with such angsty thoughts running through his head.

 _The fire crackled and the wood splintered and Leo screamed but there was still an impossible silence that had settled over the workshop. It was stifling and heavy like a blanket used to snuff out a fire even though the fire had already snuffed out everything else. Everything had gone horribly wrong, and the little happy flame that had danced within Leo had been smothered by the blanket. The last remaining spark within him had ignited a fuse and the bomb had destroyed everything he'd held dear before he even registered the explosion._

The hammer slipped through his fingertips, probably denting the bronze, but Leo was too focused on the smoke curling off of his fingers to care. He clenched his fist, feeling the sadness and the anger that had built up since that horrible night churning within him. The memories he'd tried so hard to keep in the past, the thoughts and self-doubts he'd tried so hard to ignore—they all came rushing past the barrier in a torrent.

He opened his hand and the flames flickered to life on his palm, dancing and casting soft shadows on the walls and filling the empty forge with warmth. His fingers relaxed as he let the flood of memories and thoughts through without a fight.

 _A golden sky, a dancing fire, a loss of hope, an unexpected family, a painful memory, a destructive blaze, a flame that flickered upon his fingertips._

Orange wasn't the old Houston sunrises lost in buried memories, but the campfire that blazed every night as stories were shared and new memories were made.

Orange wasn't the terrifying possibility of becoming attached only to lose everything again, but the matching camp t-shirts that quickly took on a single meaning of _home_.

Orange wasn't the swinging lanterns that haunted his memories of reminiscent nights spent in the workshop, or the fire that ripped away every bit of happiness he had and left it trampled in the ashes of his home.

Orange was the glow of the forge that burned continuously and would illuminate the half-siblings that worked beside him. It was the bit of his past that had remained at his fingertips to protect him, a sense of warmth he'd thought he'd lost long ago.

Orange wasn't pain. Orange was **comfort**.

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 **[a/n] next color is yellow! leave a review with which character you think it will be and i'll give the winner(s) a shout-out!**

 **-eira-**


	4. The Acceptance that Erases the Lonelines

**[a/n] here's the promised update! thanks for reading! [the title is apparently too long so 'loneliness' is misspelled and that's gonna bother me haha XD]**

 **WhovianGeronimo:** i'm so glad you love this story! thanks for reviewing!

 **Marcus Bond:** thanks for reading and leaving a guess! great guesses but i decided to choose a character that wouldn't automatically be associated with the color yellow. makes the guessing more fun :)

 **Ocean abyss:** thanks for continuing to stick with this story! i did follow through on my promise to update within the week so there's that haha :) and good guess on which character this chapter belongs to but i felt Jason would've been too obvious to write for; he'll have another chapter, though! also, thanks for always leaving such long and detailed reviews! reading them makes my day and i'll continue to thank you for them haha! i hope you like this update!

 **Guest:** yay you guessed the right character! shout out for you~

 **congrats to [Guest] for guessing the right character for the color yellow: NICO DI ANGELO.**

 **hope you like this! :)**

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 **Significance**

 **a.n.** In which colors are so much more than hues of light.

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 **YELLOW—The Acceptance that Erases the Loneliness**

 **NICO DI ANGELO**

The burnt drop of marshmallow melted off the edge of the stick. He watched in distaste as the glob of gooey, sticky marshmallow stuck to his ripped jeans, a white spot surrounded by worn-out black fabric.

Brushing the drop of the marshmallow away—grimacing as it only smeared sugar and stickiness across his favorite pants—Nico decidedly plucked the remaining marshmallow off of the stick, tossing it into the flames before the gummy mess got on anymore of his clothes.

A few days had passed since seven teenagers (along with Nico, a calm-and-collected Praetor of Rome, and a war-crazed satyr) had saved the world, and Chiron had felt a celebratory campfire (yes, another) was in order to revel in the new friendship between the Greeks and Romans.

Although Nico hadn't exactly planned to make a run for it and disappear from Camp when everybody's back was turned, he was still forced (read: dragged) to attend the campfire—which is how he found himself sitting in the amphitheater, surrounded by over a hundred loud, talkative, celebrating demigods, while roasting _marshmallows_.

Grudgingly, Nico had to admit the whole setup wasn't all that bad; yet, after such a grueling summer, a part of Nico (a huge part) wanted nothing more than to slink away into the shadows and deal with his problems alone. The only reason he stayed for the revelries and didn't disappear behind the door of Cabin 13—at least the only reason he would voice openly—was the crazy bunch of demigods he called his friends, who clearly made (and would obviously continue to make) efforts to include him and make him feel at home.

A smaller part of Nico felt compelled to stay for an entirely different reason: a chance to snuff out that nagging yearn for isolation, a chance to see if even an outsider like him could be welcomed with open arms.

The bag filled with giant marshmallows was passed around once more, and as it fell into Nico's arms he silently handed the bag to the next camper without taking one for himself, too lost in thought to bother.

 _The shadows surrounded him, encompassing him in darkness until even the little fire he'd started—a measly spark compared to the roaring bonfire at the half-blood camp—threatened to be snuffed out. Cold was seeping through his clothes and the fire did nothing in terms of warmth but he refused to return. That place was no home of his._

Nico grimaced at the years-old memory, at the reminder of the scared and hurt little boy he'd been back when every assuring word and sympathetic look seemed fake. He didn't need to dwell on the past, but as his eyes drifted up to the blazing fire in front of him, the past refused to stay in the past.

 _A single tear splashed down on the roses that lay on the ground, their yellow petals already wilting under his touch just as life wilts before death. The flowers had seemed like a good idea when he bought them—yellow roses, Bianca said, were supposed to mean happiness—but as his fingers left their fragile stems lying in the dirt their color seemed to dull meaningfully. His eyes found the chiseled words etched in the makeshift tombstone, and he hated how the flowers began to stand for something on the opposite side of joy._

Nico shook his head roughly, feeling the concerned blue eyes of Apollo's son beside him that he pointedly ignored. The memory of his sister—and the fact that she was no longer among the living—hurt, of course, but he refused to let the fatal flaw of Hades' children take control anymore. It was a grudge he'd long ago acknowledged and accepted, and he let out a breath as a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

 _There were too many questions, too many problems, too many emotions that he didn't want to deal with, that he didn't know_ how _to deal with. They had smiled and welcomed him but he knew they would turn him aside in a second. He was an outsider, someone who would never fit in no matter how hard he tried. So he didn't bother to make an attempt._

Nico tore his gaze away from the blazing campfire—now burning as bright and cheerful as the sun—and focused on the campers gathered around him. The smiles and laughs grew happier, and as the bag of marshmallows was passed around once more, he gave in to the insistence of a particular son of Apollo and grabbed one for himself.

Unable to hold a small smile back, Nico gave in to the memories. They could haunt him all they wanted, but shadows stood no chance against the glowing happiness that had enveloped him.

 _A pitiful fire, a bright blaze, a wilted flower, a lost burden, a seemingly forced grin, a false sense of safety, a family that stood by his side._

Yellow wasn't the little fire he'd created that served as the closest sense of comfort and warmth he knew anymore, but the blazing bonfire that lit up the amphitheater and chased away the lingering shadows.

Yellow wasn't the wilted yellow roses lying gently beside his late sister's grave, but the warm sense of relief that filled him as he finally let go of the grudge and guilt that had been dragging him down for far too long.

Yellow wasn't the overwhelming cheerfulness of the campers that only served to make him feel out of place, or the false sense of security hiding behind wide and assuring grins.

Yellow was the smiles of his family, the annoyingly-endearing hair of a certain son of Apollo, and a long-awaited feeling of happiness that welcomed him with open arms.

Yellow wasn't loneliness. Yellow was **acceptance**.

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 **[a/n] next color is green! i'm on winter break so i hope to update soon (including some other one-shots i've been working on). leave a review with which character you think will be [GREEN] and i'll give the winner(s) a shout-out!**

 **also - i'm accepting story requests if there's something you want me to write! leave a review or PM me with a prompt and i'll try to write it (see my profile for the types of stories i'm best at if you want~).**

 **merry Christmas eve to anyone who celebrates it and happy holidays to anyone who doesn't!**

 **-eira-**


	5. The Peace that is Worth the Chaos

**[a/n] SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! it's been a long couple of months, and i have a list of completely legitimate excuses if you want to read them (if not, just know i'm sorry for taking forever with this and happy reading!): writer's block attacked with a vengeance; school started up again in January and i'm in the middle of this huge, 2-year long project that currently involves me writing a 10+ page essay on my future career (a paper i stopped writing for the moment to finally finish this update for you guys. you're welcome XD); sick days left me with additional work on top of already existing work; and other fandoms periodically stole my attention and proceeded to worsen my writer's block.**

 **MOVING ON.**

 **andrelyse:** thanks for your encouraging review and for helping me finally get this update posted!

 **Sir Egg of Breakfast:** thanks! and congrats, you guessed correctly!

 **Ocean abyss (guest):** congrats on your correct guess, and i like the prediction (no matter how random haha)! thanks for the feedback on my last chapter, and i'm sorry for making you hungry for marshmallows haha!

 **congrats to Sir Egg of Breakfast and Ocean abyss (guest) for guessing the right character for the color green: ANNABETH CHASE.**

 **ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTE: my little sister is planning on posting her first story on FFN tomorrow so please check it out! she's helped me out a ton with my work so i want to repay the favor and send some readers her way! her account is: andrelyse.**

 **hope you like this! :)**

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 **Significance**

 **a.n.** In which colors are so much more than hues of light.

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 **GREEN—The Peace that is Worth the Chaos**

 **ANNABETH CHASE**

The soft waves of the Sound kept up its constant rhythm, ebbing and flowing with the consistency of a heartbeat. She lifted her hand, absentmindedly feeling the grains of sand filter through her fingers and drift off in a gust of breeze.

It had nearly been a month since the most harrowing quest ever to befall the demigods had ended with the Earth herself defeated, and Annabeth was slowly getting used to the fact that the deadly prophecy that had spurred on said harrowing quest was no longer hanging over their heads.

Sure, this new feeling was unfamiliar and unexpected. After years where every summer mean another quest to find a stolen weapon or save a friend's life or defend the entire island of Manhattan from the forces of a Titan, having absolutely nothing to worry about outside isolated monster attacks and college applications was a bit strange.

Overwhelming, even.

But as she relaxed on the beach during her free time between classes, with nothing but the sand beneath her, the clear blue sky above her, and the sounds of the ocean around her, Annabeth figured it was something she could quickly get used to.

The rhythm of the sea was almost hypnotizing, and as she closed her eyes, Annabeth found herself drifting back into the past.

 _It was pouring, and the overgrown grass was heavy with rain as blades were trampled beneath the rapid footsteps. Monsters howled and a little girl sobbed in fear, and nothing was left behind but a determined warrior and muddy footprints in the earth._

A wave broke, and the spray of saltwater filled the air. The sound and the soft mist of the sea snapped her out of her daze, and as Annabeth turned to look she could just barely make out the highest branches of Thalia's Pine, its green leaves spreading outward like arms promising to guard her home.

 _The coil of mist snaked out of the mummy's mouth, curling across the floor and enveloping her in the prophetic words that would haunt her thoughts for the remainder of the impending quest until the prophecy had been fulfilled._

The whispery voice of the Oracle faded off, its tripled voices mingling with the quiet _hissss_ of the waves as flashes of past quests and battles flickered across her mind. Her thoughts drifted to vines crawling up the walls of tunnels as if with a mind of their own and the jars of Greek fire as they exploded against a backdrop of a city turned battleground.

 _The Greek city spread out, rolling hills and red-titled roofs and towering columns extending towards the horizon. The breathtaking landscape was marred by the gathering of monsters within the ancient city's ruins, marred by the fact that the earth itself was the enemy._

The calming motions of the water and the serene quiet of the beach was enough to drown out the unwanted memories, and Annabeth settled for just enjoying the present. It was a gift, after all, one only made possible because of the terrible hardships she'd survived—hardships which were pointless to dwell upon.

Soft footsteps mixed with the consistent rhythm of the tide, and Annabeth smiled as their owner sank to the sand beside her, taking her hand in his and intertwining his fingers in hers.

As she rested her head against his shoulder, Annabeth decided she was content with simply enjoying the moment—relaxing on the beach with her boyfriend, in one of the few places she felt at home, with nothing to worry about except dealing with the aftermath of the summer's grueling events.

And as she closed her eyes, drifting off with the lull of the Sound, Annabeth never wanted the moment to end.

 _A memory long past, an unfaltering symbol, a prophetic mist, a determined effort, a foreboding land, an overpowering enemy, a protected home for them all._

Green wasn't the overgrown grass, trodden on by frantic footsteps and a heavy horde of mythological beasts, but the pine tree that still stands tall as a permanent reminder of a true hero's sacrifice.

Green wasn't the mist that surrounded the Oracle and settled across the floor of the old Big House attic with the weighty, prophetic words and a heavy sense of dread, but the efforts of retaliation as her family fought with all they had to ensure a victory and the possibility of a happy future long-awaited.

Green wasn't the ancient lands marked with the dreaded promise of spilled blood, or the earth itself as it rose against them with the goal of destroying everything the demigods cared about.

Green was the vibrant grass of Camp Half-Blood in the summer, a sense of tranquility that accompanied the invisible barrier surrounding their home, and the green eyes filled with nothing but love as they met hers.

Green wasn't chaos. Green was **peace**.

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 **[a/n] next color is blue! leave a review with which character you think will be [BLUE] and i'll give the winner(s) a shout-out!**

 **side note: the fandom i'm equally obsessed with as i am PJO is How to Train Your Dragon (i just finished watching the last season of Race to the Edge on Netflix). would anyone read them if i wrote stories for that fandom? just an idea i'm throwing out there.**

 **thanks for reading, and i hope this was worth the wait.**

 **-eira-**


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